


Ecstasy in the Garden

by Mr_Customs_Man



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Blasphemy, Crowley is Mary Magdalene, F/M, Good Omens Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 14:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21120542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Customs_Man/pseuds/Mr_Customs_Man
Summary: In the Garden of Gethsemene, Mary Magdalene comes to Jesus. Written for the Good Omens Kink Meme.





	Ecstasy in the Garden

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt: "Every ex-Catholic bone in my body is screaming, but uh, could we get Crowley and Jesus fucking on Jesus's last night alive? No preferences for Crowley's effort, but I'd like him to be presenting female/feminine (pronouns and actual gender identity are up to you). I would like to avoid oral sex altogether for this, as my brain has completely shorted out at even the thought of Jesus getting a beej, but anything else is up for grabs.
> 
> Bonuses!  
\-- they fuck in the Garden of Gethsemane with unavoidable comparisons to Eden  
\-- Crowley being angry with God all over again for destroying what She created  
\-- Jesus being less mystical and more human, perhaps scared to die  
\-- Crowley has been Mary Magdalene all along"

“Peter? John? James?”  
  
The three men continued to lie in the curled roots of an olive tree, slumbering deeply. They could not keep watch for even an hour. Jesus turned away from them and followed a path deeper into the garden. It twisted between ancient trees, pulling him into forgotten places and all the while Jesus muttered to himself, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me, please, Father--”  
  
And there, before him, came an angel to strengthen him.  
  
He could see a few red curls peeking out from beneath the Magdalene’s black veil. She always kept her hair covered, her eyes demurely fixed to the ground so that he had to tilt his head to catch a glimpse of those yellow irises. “Mary,” he asked. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“Judas has gone to the Romans. The soldiers will be here soon to arrest you.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Mary’s head snapped up. “You _know_?”  
  
“It is my Father’s will.”  
  
Her lips curled back and for a second her teeth were sharp and pointed, gleaming in the moonlight. “Of course it is,” she mocked. “God has always been fond of murdering His children.”  
  
Jesus lifted his hands. “I trust in Him.”  
  
“And He will lead you to your death!” Mary snapped.  
  
“What would you have me do, Mary? Defy God?”  
  
“Yes!” Mary rushed forward, her hands twisting the front of his tunic as she pulled him close to her. “Come with me. Let’s leave this place. There is so much to see and do out there. We can visit Pataliputra and Alexandria and Chang’an. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”  
  
And it was wonderful. Like an artist dipping his brush against the parchment, sprawling monuments and busy streets bloomed inside his head. He could see Alexandria’s great library and the terracotta horses of Chang’an. Mary brushed her cheek against his and whispered into his ear, “And we could be together. There would be nothing to stop us anymore.”  
  
Jesus squeezed her hands for one brief moment before gently pushing her away. “Do not cling to me like that. I’m not the one you want.”  
  
Mary pulled back to stare at him, her eyes wide and suspicious. “How can you say that? You are the only one I want.”  
  
“I may be the Son of Man, but I’m of the same substance as my Father. I know who you are, Mary.”  
  
When she laughed, it sounded as though she was spitting venom. “Did you think to make a fool of me? Did you laugh at all my pathetic attempts to seduce you? ‘Oh, this is no demon, only an insignificant snake!’”  
  
Jesus watched her sadly. “You were no more fool than I, pining after a woman who was in love with another man.”  
  
She stopped her raging and stood looking as lost as he felt “He’s not mine. He can’t ever be mine.” She glanced away, her eyes fixed on some distant point. “But... I honestly did like you. I wouldn’t mind being yours, for a little while.”  
  
Jesus covered his face with his hands. “If you were, I don’t think I would be able to let you go. I fear I might have inherited my Father’s jealous nature.”  
  
Mary approached him again and removed his hands. “God was able to give me up. So too will you.” She pressed her lips against his, kissing him with the kisses of her mouth. She tasted of wine. It was bitter on his tongue and he surged forward, chasing after it.  
  
Mary pulled him down until they laid side-by-side against the soft grass where the shepherds graze their flock and let their sheep rest at mid-day. She threw off her veil so that her hair tumbled down her back and rushed to meet him.  
  
His left arm was under her head, his right arm embraced her. She hitched up one leg to wrap it around his waist and pulled him forward. She snaked one hand between their bodies to find his manhood beneath his tunic. She guided him into her soft folds, her lips dripping with honey. Jesus buried his face into the crook of her neck and drank in the scent of her perfume as he pushed, his sweat dripping like blood onto the ground. She rolled onto her back and he followed her, moving between her as she cried out in ecstasy.  
  
_This doesn’t have to end,_ a voice whispered into his head as they surged against each other. Jesus kissed her quiet.  
  
“Everything ends.”  
  
He felt the edge of her teeth scrape along his lips and then she was over him. Her fiery hair was damp with dew and she moved on top of him like a soldier going into battle, her eyes wet and blazing. But the banner she wielded over him was love and he came against her, reaching up to pull her down against his chest, but she was already slipping away, back into the garden.

* * *

Crawly stood next to Aziraphale as she watched the Son of Man writhe in pain on the cross. His mother kneeled at his feet, screaming her pain to anyone who would listen. “I’m leaving,” Crawly announced.  
  
Aziraphale looked as though he desperately wanted to join her. “I must stay and... and see that it is ended.”  
  
“I hate endings,” she said, but she promised herself to return in a few days, to ensure that Jesus was properly buried.


End file.
